


Is that your broom, Potter, or are you just happy to see me?

by isthatyourbroomorareyouhappytoseeme



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 69, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Draco Malfoy - Freeform, Draco Malfoy is a pretty boy, Draco is mischievous as usual, Drarry, Facials, Fingering, Gay Sex, Ghosts, Harry Potter - Freeform, Jets, M/M, Multi, One Shot, Orgies, Rimming, Sex, Sixty-Nining, a shit ton of people having sex with Draco and Harry in a shit ton of places, harry is creative, m/m - Freeform, sixty-nining in mid-air during a quidditch match
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:28:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25972147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isthatyourbroomorareyouhappytoseeme/pseuds/isthatyourbroomorareyouhappytoseeme
Summary: It's the penultimate quidditch match of the year: Gryffindor vs Slytherin. Harry just wants a quiet, victorious game, but his cock has other plans in mind...so does Malfoy. (this is the first chapter, Draco and Harry then continue to have sex many more times)
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 8
Kudos: 26





	Is that your broom, Potter, or are you just happy to see me?

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, this is my first ever fanfic! it's pretty short and sweet and I hope you love it! if you have any constructive criticism or compliments I would love to hear them :) I am gonna do a couple chapters but I haven't exactly planned them yet so I'm not sure how many there will be, so stay tuned.

It was the perfect weather for the biggest quidditch match of the year. Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Gryffindor had already gone to the pitch to practice last minute manoeuvres before the game - the Wronski feint included. But Harry always needed some time alone before big events like this - he didn’t like that many eyes on him all at once. Taking a breath, Harry placed his broom against the wall to begin his pre-game stretches. He breathed in the magic in the air as he bent over and stretched his tight hamstrings. A groan escaped his lips as the pain flashed deeply up the back of his legs. As he returned upright with a sigh, he could feel the steel grey eyes of a certain Slytherin penetrating the back of his head. 

He whirled around and hissed, “What are you looking at, Malfoy?” with particular malice for the skinny blonde.   
“Training for the ballet, Pottah?” he spat back at the raven-haired boy, slinking closer, his broom in hand. 

Harry let out a gasp as Malfoy reached out and pushed him against the lockers, his head bouncing off the metal. The brunette felt a ball of rage rise from the pit of his stomach that only Malfoy had ever managed to evoke. Just as he was about to use all of the strength he had to shove the ferret-faced git out of the way - he had a quidditch game to stretch for, after all - he felt a cold wooden stick, presumably Malfoy’s wand, lift his chin ever so slowly, so that the young men were eye to eye, nose to nose, mouth to mouth. They were sharing the same breath as Malfoy locked eyes with Harry. Silver gazing into emerald. Harry let out a breath that he didn’t realise he was holding, disturbing the delicate, white strands of hair that framed Malfoy’s pointy face. Harry tried to struggle out of the blonde’s iron grip, but he was stuck tight. A vengeful grin spread across Malfoy’s face as he dug his wand - of considerable length - further into Harry’s jugular, lifting his chin higher, forcing him to let out an involuntary groan. 

The Slytherin leaned even closer, if that was possible, and whispered, “Scared, Potter?”   
The ghost of Malfoy’s breath skittered over Harry’s face. He gulped.   
“You wish.”   
The brunette finally shoved hard enough for Malfoy’s grip to loosen and for him to wriggle out of the small space between lockers.   
He ran out of the locker room, grabbing his broom on the way, and was almost blinded by the intense sunlight as he made it out onto the pitch at last. 

“Harry, thank Merlin! Where’ve ya been?” Oliver Wood, Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, shouted over the screams of the crowd.  
Harry started to explain the altercation with Malfoy when Oliver interrupted him.  
“Nevermind that now! Just get to Madam Hooch, the game’s about to start!”  
The boy who lived pulled down his goggles and ran to Madam Hooch at once, only to come face to face with Malfoy. Of course. Malfoy was Slytherin’s seeker. This was certainly going to be an interesting game…

The boys each mounted their brooms and locked eyes once again. A light blonde brow raised in invitation as Malfoy sneered. His brows were the most perfectly groomed pair Harry had ever seen. The arch lifted in such a way that it rounded the points of his face that the Gryffindor had been studying earlier. His gaze dropped to Malfoy’s lips as the blonde let out the point of a glistening, pink tongue and swiped it across his bottom lip. The raven-haired boy could feel a flush of heat creeping up his neck and warming his cheeks. How had he never realised how pretty Malfoy was before? 

Harry was snapped out of his reverie by the blow of Madam Hooch’s whistle, as the crowd’s screaming resumed. He growled as he berated himself for his distraction and pushed off the ground with all his might in quick pursuit of the snitch. Gold flashed in his peripherals as he dove lower and lower, Malfoy hot on his tail. Very hot. So, so hot. When did Malfoy get so fucking hot? 

As Harry day-dreamed, that was all the distraction Malfoy needed to overtake in the race towards victory.   
“You snooze, you lose, Potter!” He yelled as he scooped back up through the air following the trajectory of the flying, golden sphere. 

Harry dodged as a bludger came flying his way and swore. He quickly followed the lithe figure of the Slytherin into the clouds above. Higher and higher they flew after the prized snitch, now neck and neck. They swerved in and out of flocks of birds and particularly opaque clouds, drawing closer together to avoid the obstacles. The seekers were now completely obscured by the clouds, invisible to the crowd below, although their screams still permeated through the fog. 

Harry could feel the surprising warmth of Malfoy’s body pressed against his side. A rogue pixie suddenly flew into Harry’s path, eliciting a growl from the Gryffindor’s throat, forcing him closer to the Slytherin seeker. Their cheeks brushed and Harry gasped. Malfoy seemed to notice, despite the deafening thunder of the wind, and let a smirk curl his pretty, pink mouth. The brunette’s cheeks warmed. Whether from the speed of the chase or the accidental collision with ferret-face, he couldn’t tell, although he was beginning to suspect the latter as he let himself slow his pace to gaze upon the pert rump in front of him. Harry’s pace slowed even further as he felt a tightening in his cock and his quidditch leathers started to tent uncomfortably. All he could think about was the pale expanse of Malfoy’s smooth globes, bent over and spread, just for him. He let himself trail even further behind Malfoy, as he knew the evidence of his day-dreaming would be quite pronounced. 

Finally, the blonde noticed the distinct absence of a Gryffindor seeker alongside him, and instead of taking the opportunity to catch the snitch with no distractions, turned his broom sharply and flew over to Harry. 

Malfoy slithered through the sky like the snake he was, his hips rocking the broom sensually back and forth, almost as if he was teasing the boy who lived. His usually light silver orbs now seemed dark with lust. But surely not? Malfoy couldn’t possibly be interested in Harry - he was a bloke! And a slytherin! And, well, Malfoy! 

“Is that your broom, Potter, or are you just happy to see me?”  
Harry ignored the butterflies that erupted in his navel at the seductive rasp of the blonde’s voice.   
“W-what are you doing Malfoy? Shouldn’t you be taking any chance you can get to catch the snitch?” He demanded, frantically positioning himself so that the considerable hardness of his throbbing member was as subtle as possible.   
“Shouldn’t you?” He retorted in a distinctly Malfoy way.  
“Well, I’m not feeling very well.” Harry responded, trying to account for the redness that must be staining his cheeks and chest.   
“Well, maybe, Potter,” He drawled, “There’s something I could do about that.” 

Malfoy’s gaze dropped from Harry’s eyes, to his lips, and finally came to rest on the sharp outline of his cock straining against the leather of his pants. Harry gulped at the mischievous glint in the boy’s eyes and felt his mouth go dry. 

“How could you possibly help me, Malfoy?” Harry said, in a much quieter, huskier voice than intended.   
“You forget, Potter,” Malfoy said, flying closer so that the tip of his broom rested against Harry’s, “That I am the top potions student in the school. That includes the study of medicinal remedies.”  
“What kind of medicinal remedies?” the brunette almost whispered, any previous thoughts of catching the snitch lost. He was too aroused to care. 

Malfoy began to swirl the pad of his long finger on the rounded tip of his broom, then trailed it down the shaft of the stick. He wrapped a strong hand around it and began twisting and pulling, ever so gently, the palm of his hand just grazing the polished wood. 

“Well, recently, Professor Snape has been taking me out of class - because I am his most promising student, of course - and teaching me the art of massage.”

Harry’s dick grew longer and harder than it had ever before. 

The way Malfoy was “massaging” his broom was all the brunette could look at as he replied “Oh?”  
“Erotic... massage.” Malfoy provided, enunciating every syllable as if it was the dirtiest word he had ever spoken. 

And with that, Harry lost control. He growled as he launched himself at the skinny blonde, their mouths and bodies colliding. Their teeth clashed together with the severity of the kiss as they tried to claw closer and closer to the heat of each other’s bodies. Their tongues battled for dominance, Slytherin versus Gryffindor, once again. Harry succumbed to the hot pressure of Malfoy’s tongue on his own, allowing him entrance into the wet cavern of his mouth. Harry bit the seeker’s lip hard enough to draw blood, but quickly soothed the pain with the slick slide of his tongue. Malfoy’s lips formed the shape of an “o” as he let out a whiny moan into the brunette’s welcoming mouth. Harry grabbed Malfoy’s goggles by the bridge and quickly disposed of them onto the pitch, hundreds of metres below, Malfoy doing the same. 

As Harry caught his breath, he leant forward attempting to unbutton the Slytherin’s intricate quidditch robe. 

He had only unbuttoned the first when Malfoy growled in frustration and muttered, “Evanesco,” vanishing all of their clothes into the nether at once. 

Harry’s next breath caught in his throat as he admired the masterpiece that was Malfoy’s figure. The glowing white planes of skin were toned and lithe from hours of relentless quidditch practice. His pale pink nipples pebbled as Harry’s gaze stroked over them. A trail of light blonde hair beginning at his belly button led down towards a bush of magnificent pubes. Finally, Harry’s eyes snapped towards the angry, red tip of Malfoy’s cock. A pearl of precum was already leaking from his slit, his balls almost purple with arousal. The boy who lived thought he might burst then and there, cumming in spectacular jets across the blonde’s muscled stomach. 

Malfoy’s legs were taut with the effort of remaining on his broom as he slowly smirked, and drawled, “Everything to your satisfaction, Pottah?”

In answer, Harry’s hand snaked south, wrapping Malfoy’s throbbing member in his iron grip. He began to pump the blonde’s shaft with an unrelenting vigour, as his own cock swelled. 

“Uuuuggghhhh, FUCK! Potter! Ooohh fuck, fucking bollocks!” Malfoy screamed in tandem with Harry’s squelching tugs of his velvet-wrapped steel rod.   
“Please.” The Slytherin whimpered pathetically.  
“Please, what, Malfoy?”   
“Please suck my cock.” He begged, punctuated by a moan of pure ecstacy.   
Harry gripped Malfoy’s hardness by the base and leant down to lick a stripe up the shaft.   
“Only if you suck mine, Malfoy.”   
“What?” He whined, breathing heavily, “Yeah I will, after, I promise.”  
“No, now.”

Harry expertly flipped through the sky onto Malfoy’s broom, wandlessly and wordlessly Wingardium Leviosa-ing himself into position, with his cock bobbing above the entrance of the Slytherin seeker’s mouth and his own mouth ready to resume his earlier task. He slowly lowered himself onto, and into, Malfoy, their bodies seamlessly fitting together like yin and yang, and sixty-nine. Simultaneously, the boy’s mouths wrapped around the other’s members. 

Malfoy started sucking Harry with an enthusiasm the brunette had never seen before. He was devouring his dick like Harry inhaled treacle tart in the Great Hall. Malfoy expertly trailed a bony hand up to the Gryffindor’s brown nipples, pinching and twisting, causing Harry to scream out in pleasure. Then, with the skill of a sex god, Malfoy reached the other hand behind Harry’s shaft, still engulfed in the Slytherin’s mouth, to cup and fondle his balls. Massaging, just like he promised. 

Harry screamed like a banshee around Malfoy’s length, and was pushed over the edge. His seed sprayed down the blonde’s throat without warning, causing him to gag a little, some of Harry’s juices dribbling down Malfoy’s chin. 

Harry quickly recovered, attacking Malfoy’s cock with reinvigorated devotion, a devious plan in mind. He wandlessly summoned the lube from his bedside table to the pitch, and coated his thick, tanned fingers in it. As he inhaled the scent of Malfoy’s arousal, the strongest at the base of his length, Harry eased his digits into Malfoy’s winking hole. His phalanges were devoured by the walls of the blonde’s passage, as he began pumping them in tandem with the suckles of his mouth. The boy who lived quickly found that special bundle of nerves and brushed against them gently. Malfoy screeched and released his load, half into Harry’s mouth and half in ribbons across his own stomach. 

“Oooooh Salazar! Oooh Circe’s tits! Oooh fuck, Merlin help me! Potter!”   
As the boys breathed heavily, recovering, Harry quickly realised their state of undress and their inability to recover their vanished robes. 

“Malfoy!” The brunette gestured to his sculpted naked body, “We need to apparate off the pitch, right fucking now, but we haven’t finished the game! We still need to catch the snitch, Oh God!” 

“Classic Potter. Either too stupid to realise or just too distracted by my delicious arse to notice, I caught the snitch ages before I sauntered over here.”  
“So the game’s over?”  
“Yes.”  
“And Slytherin won?”  
The blonde smirked.   
“Yes.”  
“FUCK!”  
Harry’s scream echoed off all corners of the grounds of Hogwarts as Malfoy merely snickered.   
“Fuck you, Malfoy.” Harry grumbled.  
“When and where?” the Slytherin quipped.   
Harry sighed.   
“The prefect’s bathroom, five minutes.”  
Malfoy smirked once more before apparating away into nothing.


End file.
